


Family Always

by DizzyDrea



Category: NCIS
Genre: Coda, Family, Gen, Introspection, Possibly Pre-Slash, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6939685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDrea/pseuds/DizzyDrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months ago, Gibbs had stood in this very room and told him to think of his family first. Tonight Gibbs had reminded him that no matter where he went, he'd always be family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Always

**Author's Note:**

> As I write this, I'm floating down The River Denial on a felucca called _The Nope_. Care to join me? Good! Because I just can't deal with Tony Diznozzo leaving NCIS, so we're going to pretend that _this_ is the end game. Written within 24 hours of seeing the season finale, because FEELINGS. I've marked this pre-slash, because if you're wearing your slash goggles and you tip your head and squint, you _might_ see a little somethin' goin' on (like that major hug at the end of the season finale!).
> 
> Spoilers for 13.24 _Family First_ (plus a random spoiler or two from past seasons, though they're kinda vague).
> 
> Disclaimer: NCIS and NCIS: Los Angeles and all its particulars are the property of CBS, Paramount, Donald P. Bellisario, Belisarius Productions, Shane Brennan, Shane Brennan Productions, and a lot of other people who aren’t me. I am doing this for fun and for practice. Mostly for fun.

~o~

The house was familiar, in a way that nothing had been in the last six months. 

A faint light glowed from the front window. The truck and that badass car sat in the driveway. The lawn was neatly trimmed, and not a flower in sight.

It was quiet, in a way that houses in this neighborhood never were, but that was okay. It was how it had always been. How it _should_ be, he supposed, no matter how sad yet reassuring that thought was

Finally, after long minutes just watching the house, as if it could give him insight into life, the universe and everything, he pushed open the car door and stepped onto the street, glancing around out of habit more than anything these days. 

It wasn't that he feared the welcome he'd get. Leroy Jethro Gibbs had an open door policy—literally. In all the years Tony had known him, he'd never once found the door to Gibbs' house locked, no matter how many times he and everyone else in his life had told him it wasn't safe.

Tony snorted as he closed the car door and headed up the walk. Gibbs could out-stubborn a mule. They'd all been wasting their breath trying. But Gibbs would never accept the words _I love you_ , so _Lock the damned door_ had always had to suffice.

And sure enough, when he turned the knob, the door gave under slight pressure. Tony smiled. Just like old times.

He pushed the door open and walked in, careful not to slam the door behind him. Things hadn't really changed much since he'd been gone. Well, there was a flat-screen tv where the old tube tv had once sat, much to Tony's surprise. He'd practically begged Gibbs to get a better tv in the years he'd been on the team, but Gibbs wouldn't hear of it. So, either the old tv had finally given up the ghost, or Abby had bullied him into a new one. 

Tony's money was on the former, and maybe a little on the latter.

He stopped in the kitchen and tucked the six-pack of beer in the fridge, noting with some amusement that there were steaks and not much else inside. Some things never changed.

He pulled out two bottles, popping the tops off before heading for the door to the basement. A wave of familiarity washed over him as he headed down the stairs. How many times had he done this over the years? Sought Gibbs out, to talk through some thorny problem or just because he didn't want to be alone in his own head. Too many to count.

"Took you long enough."

Tony smiled. "Just enjoying the view."

He sauntered over to the boat, now mostly finished, handing Gibbs the spare beer he'd brought down with him. 

Gibbs looked good. Content. At peace with himself in a way he hadn't been in years. He hadn't changed, not really. Still wore the same ratty jeans and tired old hoody he'd always worn to work on the boat. It was comforting in its familiarity, and Tony blushed slightly at the sappiness of that thought.

"Not much of a view," Gibbs said, his eyes wrinkling in a smile as he sipped at his beer.

Tony shrugged. "Maybe not, but it's one I haven't seen in a while."

"Have a good trip?" Gibbs asked.

He set the beer down on the workbench and picked up his sanding block, running it over wood that already looked polished smooth as glass. To anyone else, it would look like Gibbs had tuned his visitor out, but Tony knew better. Gibbs was using the mindless monotony of sanding as a cover for how closely he was monitoring his guest. It was an old trick of his, and one that had allowed Tony to really dig into painful issues on past visits.

He'd always been grateful to Gibbs for that. Always would be.

Tony leaned back against the nearest sawhorse and took a sip of his beer, collecting his thoughts. "Parts of it were. Parts of it, not so much."

Gibbs didn't say anything, just let him be until he was ready to let it all go.

"Orli and I spent some time together," he said finally. He pulled a face, not that Gibbs could see. "Went through what was left of Ziva's house. God, I never want to do that again." He ran a hand over his face, as if by doing so he could wipe the memory from his mind. "They found her remains. Well, what was left of them. Dental records. Thank god for dental records. Or well, you know."

Gibbs hummed, but otherwise remained focused on his sanding. Tony took a wobbly breath and let it go. All the pain, the tears, the nights when Tali was inconsolable, when she just wanted Ima and not even Grandpa would do. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said parts of it weren't so good.

"How's Tali?"

The question knocked him out of the death spiral his thoughts had taken. He smiled, perhaps his first real smile since he'd gotten there. "Tali's great. She and my dad are inseparable. I thought I'd go nuts, traveling with Dad, but he's so enthralled by his granddaughter that he's easier to live with. I think Paris really was a good idea."

Gibbs stopped, reached for his beer and took a sip, all the while staring at the boat with a critical eye. He glanced up at Tony, then returned his focus to the boat.

"And you?"

And just like that, the good mood evaporated. How was he? Struggling. On a good day, all he could think about was Tali and how much she'd enjoyed the carousel at Tivoli Gardens, how she was never more than three feet away from her favorite stuffed dog, how she was the spitting image of her mother. On a bad day, thoughts of Ziva and all their missed chances crowded in, mocking him the way the Doppel-Tony's had. Orli had been right: Ziva neither needed nor particularly wanted a man in her life. Especially after Michael.

He had loved her, though he probably came to that knowledge too late for it to do any good. And while loving her was by no means a guarantee of happiness—see his parents, for just one example—he'd have had to try, for Tali's sake if nothing else.

"I think I'm a little at loose ends," he said, instead of voicing some of the more maudlin thoughts running through his mind. "Paris was great, but it's not home. And there's no way I'm staying in Israel. That was Ziva's home. I may take Tali back, one day, just so she can see where she came from, but…"

"But this is where you chose to build your life," Gibbs said.

It was the longest sentence he'd spoken since Tony had arrived. He'd never been one for talking; that much had always been true.

"Yeah," Tony sighed. A small chuckle escaped. "You know, I never used to stay in one place too long. Peoria. Phillie. Baltimore. And then I met you, and suddenly, I wanted to stick around. You gave me a reason to stick around. Now…"

"I wasn't your reason, DiNozzo," Gibbs said gruffly. He bent back over the boat, examining the line of the deck as it curved to meet the sides. "The work was your reason. Justice. Closed cases. Bad guys behind bars. I just gave you the opportunity."

"Yeah, well, I guess I need a new one," Tony said. "Job, that is. I'm not gonna be able to live the rest of my life on my trust fund. Not that the thought isn't enticing, but I'm not that guy anymore. Never was, really. Maybe I'll do some security consulting. Lord knows I've got enough experience."

"Or you could come back to NCIS."

Tony just gaped at his boss. His old boss. "Um, no. Don't know if you've noticed, but I have a daughter now. If something were to happen to me, she'd be all alone. I can't do that to her. I won't."

"Vance has been making some noise about splitting the Deputy Director position in half. East Coast/West Coast. Granger's been pretty involved with OSP, so he needs someone to oversee the East Coast. Mentioned your name a time or two."

"Last time I saw him, I resigned," Tony said. "I don't think he'll want to rehire me. Besides, I was never a team lead. Don't have the experience to be a DD."

"You've been on leave the last six months," Gibbs said. He flicked his eyes to Tony, then back to the boat, picking up the sander to work out a rough spot. "Or didn't you read your paperwork?"

"I've—what?"

That threw him for a loop. On leave. He hadn't even really paid attention when he'd processed himself out of NCIS. They'd told him his last paycheck would be deposited into his account, the same as every other paycheck. And he'd relied on the money from his trust to get them through the trip; six months had barely put a dent in the money. His dad had contributed too, but he wasn't going to ask where that came from.

Gibbs just smirked, which Tony thought wasn't entirely fair. He hadn't just been ambushed with the knowledge that he wasn't as unemployed as he'd thought.

"Okay," Tony said, drawing out the syllables. "Putting aside for a moment that I must be slipping as an investigator if I didn't even notice I'd never gotten a lump-sum deposit in my account, that still doesn't change the fact that I'm not qualified."

"Not looking for a team leader, or even a lead investigator," Gibbs said. He finally straightened up, grabbed his beer from the bench and leaned against it. "He's looking for someone who can manage East Coast Operations. You ran the MCRT, most days. Did all your paperwork, all my paperwork. Hell, probably most of McGee's and Bishop's too. You knew how to get things done. How to get the best out of people. You trained McGee, Kate, Ziva, Bishop."

Tony just stood there, beer forgotten in his hand. He'd felt like, when he left six months ago, that he'd stayed too long. But maybe it was just that he'd stayed in Gibbs' shadow too long. Without the challenge of leading his own team, he'd stagnated. It was his own fault, really. He'd liked working with Gibbs; he'd become complacent, figuring there was plenty of time to have a team of his own. And truth be told, he'd always expected to take over the MCRT when Gibbs retired.

But Gibbs was never going to retire, and Tony had had to face the reality that if he wanted a new challenge, he'd have to find it somewhere else. Having Tali dropped into his lap had made the decision easy, but with as sudden as it was, he hadn't really had time to plan what came after.

"Granger won't ever be Director," Gibbs said into the silence.

Tony stared at Gibbs for a few long moments as that thought percolated. The implication was clear: Vance was looking for someone he could train to be the next Director. And he apparently thought Tony was the right guy.

"So, let me ask you," Tony said, "do you think I can do it?"

Gibbs snorted. "You're smarter than everyone in that building. You tell me."

"Gibbs," Tony said, frustration coloring his tone.

"Tony," Gibbs said. He looked directly at Tony, eyes not wavering, full of certainty. "You're the guy for this job. If I thought it was a bad idea, I'd have never mentioned it to you."

"That would mean I'd be your boss," Tony said. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for Gibbs to balk at that.

The bastard just smirked again. "So?"

Tony blew out a breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out, tossing it to Gibbs. "Good thing I didn't get rid of that, then."

Gibbs caught it and frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a thumb drive," Tony said.

"I know what it is," Gibbs said. "What's on it?"

"That's Eli David's burn book," Tony said, smiling that shark-toothed smile he only brought out on special occasions.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "How'd you get it? I thought all of David's files burned in the house fire."

"Ziva must have found them and digitized them before she died," Tony said, his voice only wavering a tiny bit on the last part. "I found the files on a micro-dot attached to the back of a picture of the two of us my dad found stashed in Tali's bag."

Gibbs tossed the thumb drive back to Tony. "The CIA might be interested in what's on that."

"Then it's a good thing I don't plan on telling them about it," Tony said. He pocketed the drive and took one last long swig of beer. "Vance really wants me as his Deputy?"

"Yep," Gibbs said. He finished off his beer and set it on the workbench. 

Tony watched, amused, as Gibbs returned to his sanding. Talk time was apparently over, but that was okay. Tony was pretty much talked out anyway. Now all that was left was considering the offer Vance was apparently going to make.

Did he want to go back to NCIS? He'd given thirteen years of his life to the Navy, protecting and serving those who protect and serve the country. They'd been good years, but he'd known not long after he found out about Tali that he'd have to give it up. He couldn't afford to leave his daughter an orphan; she'd lost enough in her short life, no need to add his death to that.

But if Gibbs was to be believed, Tony wouldn't have to go out into the field. He'd probably have to travel some, but he could work that out. Vance would just have to understand that Tali was his priority now. 

The truth was, he had a home and a family at NCIS, and he hadn't been eager to leave that, even if he'd known it was time. A new position with new challenges and the potential of future promotions was heady stuff, but he could already feel excitement building.

So, maybe he'd made a decision after all.

He grabbed Gibbs' empty bottle off the workbench and headed for the stairs. "See you tomorrow, Boss."

"Shouldn't that be my line?" Gibbs said, though he didn't look up from his sanding.

Tony chuckled. "We'll see."

"Bring Tali and your dad over tomorrow night," Gibbs said. He looked up this time, and met Tony's eyes. "We'll celebrate."

Tony smiled. Gibbs had always known him, maybe even better than he'd known himself. "Will do, Gibbs. Will do."

He paused on the stairs to watch Gibbs as he lovingly sanded the boat. Six months ago, Gibbs had stood in this very room and told him to think of his family first. Tonight Gibbs had reminded him that no matter where he went, he'd always be family.

Tony thought that was just about right.

~Finis


End file.
